I took my Sunday Stroll today in the early afternoon, after a wonderful morning with old friends at the Farmer's Market. As I walked around, I thought about how I'm not the kind of gardener who goes out daily and weeds, deadheads, etc. Most of my flowers are like wildflowers in a meadow; they pretty much take care of themselves. They have a wildness about them, in that they grow and grow, sometimes too close together, but in a way that pleases me immensely. I love seeing mallow appear all over the place. Some I keep, some I weed out. I love all my orange daylilies which grow in profusion everywhere I look this time of year. I really should divide my Siberian iris but honestly, I think they look gorgeous all clumped together in several different areas of the yard. If there is a bare space, something pops up to fill it. An area that used to be more formal has turned into an iris, lupine, and milkweed garden. And I planted only the iris. I love that. The field out beside the barn is abundant with raspberry bushes, and the budding Queen of the Prairie which I posted about last July. (Is Deb/Silphium still reading my blog? Did you ever start your Prairie's Progress? I've searched a few times with no luck) The rocky pasture next to where we park the car and truck is lush with tansy, milkweed, and daylilies. The flowers which grow here seem somehow to suit the land. This is not a country estate, but rather an old farm, and the old-fashioned flowers are at home here.
Bright Lights Cosmos
Two growing things - the corn and the woodpile
Daylilies outside the kitchen door